


愛妻弁当 (Loving Wife Lunches)

by besanii



Series: 学園小説 [4]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Cooking, Eating, Fluff, Grantaire can cook, Japanese Culture, M/M, enjolras can't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 03:38:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1764309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/besanii/pseuds/besanii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What’s this?” he asks innocently.  His cheeks are beginning to hurt with how wide his smile is.  Grantaire’s face lights up.</p><p>“Enjolras!  Just in time!”  He jumps to his feet to usher him onto the blanket, which Enjolras does so after toeing off his slippers.  “I made lunch.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	愛妻弁当 (Loving Wife Lunches)

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on [this post](http://besanii.tumblr.com/post/86600722543/you-want-cliche-ill-give-you-cliche-enjolras) about Grantaire making bentos for Enjolras because Enjolras can't cook.
> 
> They're both in the same school year (take your pick which one) and have been friends the whole time.

“Ahh, sorry I’m late.”

Grantaire looks up from unpacking his lunch with a welcoming smile, but it dies almost as soon as he lays eyes on Enjolras.  He’s laden down with canteen food: individually wrapped buns and bread rolls of various fillings, shrink-wrapped onigiri, and a carton of Starbucks coffee balanced precariously on top of the sizeable stash.  He lays it all down on the floor between them with a triumphant grin.  Grantaire gapes.

“What’s all this?”

“Lunch,” Enjolras says proudly.  He gestures at the selection.  “I couldn’t decide what I wanted more, and I’m _hungry_ – so I got a bit of everything.  And a coffee.”

“This can’t be good for you,” Grantaire says.  He shakes his head and sighs.  “Is this all you eat everyday?”

“Well…”  Enjolras looks sheepish.  “My parents are away on business this month and I can’t actually cook anything without burning the house down, so…”

He fiddles with the packaging on a yakisoba roll, crinkling the plastic under his fingers and tearing it open.  Grantaire watches as he devours it in record time and reaches for a second without looking back up at him.  He continues to eat and Grantaire turns back to his own packed lunch, poking at the rice with his chopsticks.

“You know,” he says suddenly, “I could teach you to cook.”

Enjolras looks up, his mouth full of bread, and blinks.  Grantaire spears a sausage with his chopsticks and waves it in his face.

“My mum works late, so I make our lunches in the morning,” he continues.  “I’ve gotten pretty good at it too.  I can make a decent omurice, at least.”

Enjolras smiles.

“That sounds fun,” he says.  “It’s a date.”

He leans over and takes Grantaire’s hand, bringing the chopsticks to his own lips.  Ignoring Grantaire’s loud protests, he eats the sausage right off the stick and leans back with a satisfied grin.  Grantaire smacks him over the head, scowling and ordering him back to his own food while digging in his pocket for his mobile phone.  Enjolras leans over his shoulder, curious.

“What are you doing?”

“None of your business,” Grantaire tells him, edging away.  He starts typing furiously while Enjolras sulks, taking a huge bite out of his melon bread.  “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Is it a surprise for me?” Enjolras asks, perking up.  Grantaire glances up and gives him a half-shrug, coupled with a secretive grin.

“You’ll see.”

 

\--

 

 **Joly:** I emailed the info you asked for.

 **Grantaire:** Thanks bro, I owe you one.

 **Joly:** What’s it for, anyway?

 **Grantaire:** Just research.

 

\--

 

 **Grantaire:** Hey, lunch on the roof tomorrow?

 **Enjolras:** Sure.

 **Grantaire:** Come straight after class, no dawdling!

 

\--

 

Enjolras has to physically fight the temptation to step over to the canteen on his way to the rooftop the next day.  His stomach growls pitifully – the instant curry rice he’d made last night had barely constituted a whole meal, and he’d skipped breakfast that morning – and he glances mournfully at the array of breads and set lunches on his way past.

But Grantaire had been adamant and Enjolras is nothing if not indulgent of his whims.

The door is already propped open by the time he gets to the top of the stairs and the corner of his lips twitch with the urge to smile.  What greets him on the other side of the door, however, is nothing he’d expected.

Grantaire has spread out a picnic blanket on the concrete, and he’s carefully arranging an assortment of lunchboxes and a thermos upon its checkered surface.  He’s humming under his breath as he does so; a fluttery feeling warms Enjolras’ heart and he clears his throat to alert Grantaire to his presence.

“What’s this?” he asks innocently.  His cheeks are beginning to hurt with how wide his smile is.  Grantaire’s face lights up.

“Enjolras!  Just in time!”  He jumps to his feet to usher him onto the blanket, which Enjolras does so after toeing off his slippers.  “I made lunch.”

“I can see that,” Enjolras says, examining the selection.  “They look amazing.”

“And nutritious too,” Grantaire tells him.  He gestures for Enjolras to sit before he hands him a folded piece of paper from his bag.  It’s a chart, with different assortments of meals and foods grouped under different days of the week.  “I had my brother help me make a meal chart for you.”

Enjolras remembers Joly, Grantaire’s older brother who is currently studying nutrition and food science at university.  He imagines Grantaire reading all of Joly’s very thorough research, meticulously planning and calculating and penning them all into this neat little chart he’s holding in his hands.  He thinks of all the painstaking effort involved and his heart swells.

“Thank you,” he says.  “Really.”

Grantaire blushes.

“It’s nothing.”  He rubs the back of his neck.  “I figured that we could both try it out – since, well, you know…”

“I can’t cook?”  Enjolras grins.  “You really don’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“It’s fine, I already make lunch in the morning,” Grantaire says, “it’s just one extra portion.  No trouble at all.  C’mon, let’s eat.”

He picks up a piece of sausage with his chopsticks and holds it up. It's been sliced at one end so that it curls outward like octopus tentacles, and the tiniest little incisions on the other side form dotted eyes and a smiling mouth. He grins.

"Cute."

Grantaire brandishes the morsel with a red-faced scowl.

"Do you want it or not?"

Enjolras wraps a hand around his wrist and Grantaire freezes, watching with wide-eyes as Enjolras brings the hand to his mouth and wraps his lips over the chopsticks.  He pulls away slowly to chew, and gives Grantaire a wide smile after.

"It's delicious," he says. "You're a really talented cook, Grantaire."

"It's just food," Grantaire mumbles.  Enjolras shakes his head and leans closer, his breath ghosting across his cheek.

"It's delicious," he repeats softly. Grantaire shivers.  "Thank you."

He brushes his lips over the soft cheek and smiles when Grantaire exhales shakily.  He turns back to his food with a triumphant smile.

"Let's eat."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr!](http://besanii.tumblr.com/)


End file.
